


let's write a story, be in my book

by nevershootamockingbird



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beaujester Week, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Families of Choice, Getting Together, Mild Angst, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 01:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20024617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevershootamockingbird/pseuds/nevershootamockingbird
Summary: Jester’s still giggling as she says, “You can pretend to be annoyed all you want. I know you love me, Beau.”I do, I do. I’d love you in every lifetime,she thinks, but she just laughs and nods, shuffling through her notes as she listens to Jester settle into her bed. She’s just tired enough to let a little too much honesty slip into her voice when she replies, “Of course I do, Jester.”“Good.” She sounds satisfied, but there’s something almost wistful about the word; Beau’s sure that that’s just wishful thinking, though.





	let's write a story, be in my book

**Author's Note:**

> For Beaujester Week, day 5: "Emotional Support"
> 
> This is very Beau-centric, and I'm very proud of this. I adored writing it, I hope you enjoy reading even a fraction as much. 
> 
> Beau and Jester, leaning on each other and figuring it out, together.

Beau thinks this will make for a funny story later, if she makes it to later. 

It should’ve been easy, is the thing, and there’s something like a laugh bubbling up in her throat but it tastes like iron, thickly coating her tongue as she gasps and tries not to choke. Her body protests as she tries to get up, the buzzing in her ears only just beginning to subside when the world swims around her and she finds herself flat on her back again. 

“Fucking stay down!” The words are angry, she thinks, tinged with an underlying panic, but Beau doesn’t want to listen, has to find—

“Fjord?” She calls out, voice weak and broken, and it tastes like more blood when she tries to clear her throat. She rolls onto her side, sees her friend scrambling over to her, and she isn’t sure if the sob she lets out is pain or relief as she realizes that he’s largely unharmed. “Good, it worked.”

“Worked?” And he still sounds mad but she realizes that he’s shaking as he reaches out to carefully roll her onto her back again, distress etched into the lines of his face. There’s a bright burst of pain when he presses his hands down against her stomach, and she hates herself for the pathetic whine she lets out, hates the way it makes his mouth go pinched. “How in the hells do you call getting yourself blown up something that _worked_?”

Beau can’t speak for a minute, gritting her teeth against a wave of nausea, and she reaches out instead, desperate for anything to ground her. Her left hand latches onto Fjord’s forearm, and she forces herself to breathe through it, finally telling him, “Got you out of the way, didn’t I?”

If her grin is more of a grimace, well, Fjord’s decent enough not to call her on it. 

“If I make a mistake, you let me take the pain. Don’t be a self-sacrificing idiot,” he spits at her, and Beau gives a laugh that ends in a gurgling cough as more blood dribbles down her chin. Fjord swears, shaking her hand off so he can haul her up, and for a minute all she knows is agony, bright-hot and entirely consuming. 

For a minute, she wonders if this is how she dies. 

Fjord is still talking as she swims back to full consciousness, bracing her up with a knee to her back and his arm around her shoulders, left hand back to pressing firmly against the seeping wound in her gut. When she looks down, his hand is more red than green. Her head lolls onto his shoulder, and Fjord tenses impossibly further, voice sharp as he tells her, “Keep your eyes open, Beau.”

“That an order?” She slurs out, proud of the even small amount of sarcasm she manages to inject into her words, and Fjord huffs out a laugh that sounds a little hysterical around the edges. 

“Damn right it was. You’re my first mate still, aren’t you?” She feels brief pressure against her forehead, the gentle scrape of tusk and lips, and her eyes sting. He sounds afraid, now. 

“Always,” and she means it, covers his hand with both of hers and summons what little strength she has left to press down harder, only a little ashamed at the sob that tears its way from her throat. Fjord hums under his breath, nonsensical and soothing, and Beau stares down at their hands, thinks about how long they’ve been down here as she watches blood rise through their fingers. 

The trap had been at the beginning of the cave; even if she’d passed out after the initial blast, it can’t have been more than forty-five minutes since they left the rest of their friends back at the inn. She swallows hard as she realizes that, at best, they aren’t expected back for another half hour. 

It isn’t hard to conclude that it’s unlikely she has that kind of time left. 

“Fjord?” And she’s feeling dizzier now, tries to focus on the bracelet Jester had gifted her that morning, now scuffed and missing several beads. She licks her lips, tastes more iron, tries again, “Will you promise me something?”

“Fuck off,” is his first response, firm and angry, and Beau huffs out a wheezing laugh, eyes fluttering briefly before she focuses again. “Do not finish that sentence, Beau. You can say whatever you want when we get back to Jester and the others.”

“I better not see any of you asholes for a long time,” she bites back, but she can’t muster any venom, too worn out. Her hands are just as stained as his, now. “Fjord—”

“No. You’re going to be fine, alright? I can carry you back.” He sounds frantic, anxious, and Beau has the stray thought that she’s glad she made it long enough for him to trust them with his real accent. She shakes her head, hands convulsing around his as the movement makes her vision go blurry around the edges. Fjord lets out something close to a goddamned snarl, arm tightening around her. “Beau, what the fuck—”

“Can’t, you can’t. I won’t be able to keep pressure,” she cuts him off, can’t find it in herself to feel bad. Maybe if she gets out of here, he’ll give her yet another lesson in manners. “Please, I need you to—”

“No, no, it’s going to be okay. They will find us in time,” he insists, but there’s fear in his voice, deep and honest. Beau sniffles, feels the sting of either blood or tears in her right eye. 

“I love you, you know that? We’re family,” and she sounds a lot desperate, she thinks, but it’s been months and Fjord still looks skittish, sometimes, still looks like he expects to be cast out of the group for no other reason then how he was raised, then who he is. Beau digs blunt nails into his skin, tips her head to try and catch his gaze. “I need you to know that, Fjord.”

“I do.” His voice is hardly more than a whisper, and she isn’t exactly surprised to see his eyes watering when he looks down at her. A smile tugs at her lips, and she feels herself relax a little more, hands loosening against his. Fjord shakes his head, alarm sliding across his face as he jostles her a little, pulling a weak groan out of her mouth. “Come on, now, stay with me.”

Beau shakes her head, eyes beginning to droop against her will, and warning bells are going off in the back of her mind but it’s getting harder to focus on anything. Fjord shakes her again, and she whines, hands slipping against his as she tries to push at him. 

She’s so tired. 

“You can't leave me,” he whispers, almost begging, and Beau squeezes his hand clumsily, tries to speak but there's too much blood for her to take a proper breath. Fjord sobs once, pressing another kiss to her forehead before pushing his hand down against her stomach, ignoring her rough scream as he straightens a little. His voice echoes in the tunnel as he calls out, “Help me, please! I cannot lose her, please, help me save her. I will do anything you ask of me, just let her live.” 

There's a ringing silence as he finishes speaking and Beau can feel Fjord holding his breath, unmoving as he holds her painfully tight. She finally lets her eyes fall shut, slumping a little heavier into the half-orc as she takes comfort in his body heat. She remembers the lighthouse in Nicodranas, and clutches at his hand, thinking hazily, _Don't let him down, please. Don't fail him, too_. 

A gentle breeze suddenly washes over them, and Beau wonders just who is being answered. 

Fjord gasps raggedly, and Beau forces her eyes open, stares down at the green glow emanating from his hand. There's a beat, and then the glow is seeping into her, and Beau almost whimpers when warm magic surges into her, reminding her of one of Caduceus’s healing spells. She watches as Fjord tentatively pulls their hands away, and she can't help the sob of relief she lets out when she sees a scar instead of the gaping wound. “Holy shit, it worked. You did it.”

“Thank you, _thank you_ ,” Fjord whispers fervently, squeezing his eyes shut before pulling Beau in against his chest. The angle is a little awkward but she doesn't complain, buries her face in his shoulder and wraps her arms around him, hands trembling as she presses her palms to his armor. 

She isn't the only one shaking. Neither mention it. 

Some minutes pass before either of them start to relax, Beau’s breathing returning to some semblance of normal, Fjord’s cheek drying against her temple. They separate slowly, half-orc hauling her up to her feet and not letting go until he seems sure that she won't immediately fall over. She winces as she swipes at her forehead, bruises fresh and tender still. 

“So, uh, should we check down in the cave now?” Beau stretches slowly as she asks, ignoring her protesting joints as they grind and click. Fjord doesn't answer, and when she looks back up at him he's staring at her with a slack jaw, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. Beau rubs the back of her neck, scowling and shifting her weight. “What?”

“You almost died, that's what. We’re going back to the inn, fuck this job,” he tells her, tone brooking no argument. Beau thinks about fighting back for a second on principle, but exhaustion is settling into her bones and she’s still in pain more than she isn't. Instead she just shrugs, and Fjord looks relieved, sighing softly before reaching out for her. “Okay, let's get going.” 

It's slow going as they make their way out of the tunnel. Fjord’s arm is tight around her waist, holding most of her weight, but they're only a third of the way back to the town by the time she’s sweating and beginning to lag. Beau almost trips entirely when Fjord suddenly stops; the only thing that keeps her from falling flat on her face is his grip on her waist. 

“What the fuck?” She grouses, frowning up at him only to find him staring back at her, jaw set stubbornly. Beau narrows her eyes, trying to lean away. “Dude, what?”

“This isn’t working,” he starts, and Beau groans, rolling her eyes. Fjord gives her a look that's just shy of a glare, shaking his head. “No, I don't want to hear it. You either get on my back, or I'm going to end up dragging you back to the inn.”

“You're such a dick.” She knows he's right, though, and it doesn't take much before she's settled against his back, his hands curled under her thighs. Beau wraps one arm around his neck, waving the other forward. “Onward!”

“I will dump you on your ass,” Fjord tells her mildly, but she can see the edge of his mouth turned up in amusement. He starts walking all the same, and it's slower than his normal pace but still much faster than their previous attempt. 

It’s pretty fucking nice, she thinks, to be able to rely on someone else like this. 

Clouds drift by above them, and she begins to drift with them, eyelids growing heavier as her head rests against Fjord’s. His even gait sends her further into that hazy place just before unconsciousness, her world narrowing down to the warm leather of his armor, the sluggish throb of pain lingering in her body, the gentle prick of her friend’s claws through the cloth of her pants. It’s as close to meditating as she’s gotten in a while, and there’s some kind of irony there, she’s sure of it. 

Fjord is seemingly content to leave her to it, humming low in his throat after a few minutes but making no attempt at conversation, lulling her further into that sense of peace and safety. Beau doesn’t know how much time passes before he rouses her, hands tightening before he asks softly, “You up?”

“Mhmm, yeah,” she slurs out, clumsily patting at his chest as she struggles to open her eyes, noting the changed scenery. 

Her friend chuckles softly, hefting her up a little higher on his back. He's quiet for another minute, and Beau thinks briefly about dozing back off, even with the town finally in sight. The thought is quickly derailed when Fjord says, “You were right, back there. We are family, and I'm awfully glad you said it.”

“Yeah, well.” She swallows hard, shrugging as much as she can, fervently hoping he can’t feel the heat rising to her cheeks. Beau's never been good at lending voice to these thoughts, the ones that cluster in her mind and tangle on her tongue, that make her want to scream and weep in equal turn. _I’ve never known a family other than this one, I didn’t know this is what love was supposed to feel like, please don’t abandon me, too._

“I mean it, Beau.” Fjord sounds oddly serious, his grip on her firm and steady as he continues towards on the path towards town. His voice is gentle when he asks, “That’s what you wanted me to tell the others, wasn’t it? That we were your family and you loved us?” 

She can’t bring herself to speak past the lump in her throat, just nods instead, cheek scraping across the shorn hair on the side of his head. 

“Well, I need you to know that I love you, too,” he says, and Beau shuts her eyes against sudden tears, unbidden and unwanted. Her friend sighs heavily, squeezing her legs gently. “I’m guessing you haven’t heard that nearly as often as you should have. Hell, I don’t even know the last time you might have heard it.”

 _Months ago_ , she thinks, verging on hysterical, _months ago, and I’ve been waiting for her to say it again ever since._ She says nothing, too busy trying to keep her breathing in check, but she tightens her arms just a little, squeezes her legs against his sides that much harder. 

“Hey, I understand,” Fjord tells her, wistful and soft. “I haven’t heard it much either. So I just needed to tell you.”

Beau leans forward a little, careful not to overbalance them, and presses her jaw to Fjord’s temple, as much affection as she's willing to show when she feels like this, raw and exposed. If the half-orc hears her sniffle, he’s kind enough not to call her on it. 

They're in front of the inn all too soon, and Beau sighs heavily, taps Fjord’s chest twice before bracing her hands on his shoulders. Her voice sounds like she's swallowed sand when she says, “Alright, put me down.”

Fjord doesn't budge, though, twisting his head just enough so she can see the dubious expression on his face. “Do you think you'll actually be able to make it in and up the stairs okay?”

“Maybe?” She shrugs, cataloguing the lingering pains and aches, some still sharp enough to leave her a little winded. “Might need help up to a room, but it’s gonna look worse than it is if you carry me in.”

“You almost died, Beau, it’s going to look bad no matter what,” Fjord grumbles, but he lets her drop down all the same. Beau takes a few halting steps around him, wondering if she really needs to let Jester or Caduceus look at her before passing out, when her friend reels her in with an arm around her, taking on some of her weight. He snorts at the half-hearted glare she gives him, looking down at her with a wry smile. “Jess is already gonna kill me, alright? I’m not letting you fall on your face just because you’re too damned stubborn for your own good.”

She rolls her eyes but says nothing, grateful for the support even when he huffs a laugh at her grudging acceptance. 

Beau realizes not letting him carry her may have been a bad idea when a wave of dizziness hits her as they make it into the inn’s tavern. She hooks her fingers into the edge of Fjord’s armor, trying to play it casual, but the concerned look he gives her tells her she doesn't do that good of a job. She sees the faces of their friends as they round the corner, grins morphing into shock and concern, and then everything begins to fall away. 

The room spins and there are raised voices, but Beau can’t make any of it out, like she’s far underwater with her friends high above. She feels hands on her, and then all she knows for a time is painless, blissful black. 

* * *

Something is vibrating against her chest when Beau finally wakes. 

She's groggy enough that she doesn't understand what it is until fur nudges up against her chin; then she curls in, arms wrapping around the comforting weight of Frumpkin. The fey-cat’s purring intensifies as he pushes his head up against her chin again, paws tucking up between them. Beau sighs, scratching lazily at his spine as she opens her eyes. “Thanks for the wa— fucking _hells_ , don’t do that!”

Frumpkin bristles as she retracts, meowing plaintively at her until she slides back over, pulse still jack-rabbiting. In a chair next to the bed, Caleb stares at her calmly, shutting a book and setting it on the side table. 

“Dude, could you be any creepier?” She glares at him half-heartedly, wrapping one arm around Frumpkin before carefully shifting until she can slouch cross-legged on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. She deposits the cat into her lap, burying both hands in his fur as she watches Caleb pour a glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Nein, Beauregard, I certainly prefer you alive,” he tells her, offering the glass. Beau takes it, slowly drinking half as she keeps petting Frumpkin with her free hand. Caleb settles back in the chair, folding his hands in his lap. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. A little stiff, but not like I’m dying so I’m not gonna complain.” She shrugs, twisting her neck until it pops before finishing off the water. Caleb lets out a terse breath and slumps down in his seat, the lines in his face easing. 

“That is good to hear. We were very worried when you passed out, more so after Fjord told us what happened.” His voice is steady, but she catches the way his knuckles turn white, how his mouth pinches. Beau frowns, reaching out to set the glass down, and Caleb leans forward suddenly, reaching out to stroke along Frumpkin’s back. His knuckles brush along the side of her palm, and he murmurs, “I am very glad you are alright, Beau.”

She doesn’t say anything for a minute, just blinks at the side of his face before settling back against the headboard and looking back down at the cat in her lap. Caleb starts to withdraw, but she grabs his hand before he can move away fully, squeezing clumsily before letting go. Out of the corner of her eye she watches his lips tick up into a soft smile, and something in her loosens. She threads her fingers in Frumpkin’s thick fur, watches his tail twitch lazily. “How long was I out for, and please tell me you weren’t watching me the whole time.”

“Ja, ja, of course I was. Never left,” Caleb tells her drily, raising an eyebrow as she turns to give him an unimpressed stare. He breaks after a moment, snorting inelegantly and shaking his head. “We took turns, do not worry. Had to pry Jester away from you, but we finally convinced her to go back downstairs. You’ve been asleep for seven hours, it is nearly time for dinner.”

“Great, I’m starving.” She hefts Frumpkin up, pressing a kiss to his head before depositing him on the bed beside her; she gets a yowl for her troubles, the cat leaping up onto her shoulder before curling around her neck. When Beau turns to look at him, Caleb is standing and very studiously fixing his shirtsleeves. “Cute, Widogast.”

“I have no idea what you are referring to,” he tells her blithely, finally looking over with a furrow in his brow. “Do you need any help up? Jester and Caduceus both spent some time using spells on you, but—”

“I got it, quit rambling.” She stands carefully, relieved when her legs hold and the room stays upright. Caleb looks faintly hesitant but does not reach out for her, just gently ushers her out of the room. His hand finds her elbow as they descend the stairs, palm dry and warm, and Beau thinks briefly about knocking it away but Frumpkin is purring around her neck, rubbing his face against her jaw, so she just lets it happen, lets herself have the single point of contact. 

She’s tired of denying herself every kind of comfort, even if she’s not sure that she deserves it. 

Caleb releases her arm when they reach the lower level of the tavern, perhaps unwilling to crowd her, perhaps unwilling to ask for more himself; it makes Beau hesitate, idling until he falls into step next to her, shoulders bumping together. The other human smiles at her gently before his eyes flicker past her towards the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor, and then his grin grows wider, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. He reaches out to lift Frumpkin off her shoulders, but she doesn’t have a chance to protest before someone slams into her back. 

“Beau!” The arms around her are squeezing too tight, but Beau just lets out a breathless laugh, resting her hands over Jester’s and pretending her heart doesn’t ache for something more. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re finally awake, that was so scary.”

“Sorry, Jessie,” and she mostly means it, she thinks, except for all the ways she doesn’t. As she squirms and turns around in her friend’s hold, she sees where Fjord sits healthy and mostly whole at the table Caleb has joined, and Beau can’t find any shard of regret for keeping him from harm.

It’s not something she knows how to feel, not anymore.

Jester is glaring at her when she finally meets her gaze, brow furrowed stubbornly, worry lines etched into her face. Her tail has coiled around one of Beau’s legs almost as tightly as her arms have wrapped around her waist; Beau feels a stab of guilt at the waver in her roommate’s voice when she insists, “Don't do that again!”

“I promise I'll try my best.” Her friend doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer, but Beau just wraps her arms around the tiefling’s shoulders to return the hug, mindful of the horn that inevitably ends up pressed to her cheek. 

The moment stretches, Jester seemingly content to just stand in the middle of the inn and squeeze her firmly, hands pressing against Beau’s spine as though she means to reach through the skin; she thinks, briefly, that Jester could crack her open and hold her heart in her hands and Beau would be fucking grateful for it.

Too soon, Jester begins to pull away, and Beau lets her, pastes a smile on her face that only feels a little false. The tiefling beams up at her, catching one of her hands before tugging her towards the tables their friends have shoved together. “Come on, you need to eat now! You were asleep for so long, and like, you totally needed it but now you need to get your strength back, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Jess.”

* * *

It doesn’t even take a month to break her promise to Jester. 

They’re pushed out of the treeline by the oncoming group, and Beau grits her teeth as the dwarf lands a heavy blow against her side, their warhammer impacting with a sickening snap. The hammer draws back, swings again; she can feel the air displaced above her as she drops down, ignoring her protesting ribs as she rolls to the side.

“Stay down!” Comes the cry behind her, and Beau does as told, watches as two bolts embed themselves into the dwarf’s neck, sinking deep enough that the man staggers back two steps before dropping lifeless to the ground.

“Good timing,” she calls back, pushing herself up with a groan, but any relief drains from her as she watches the enemy mage and rogue both advancing on Nott. The tiefling’s fingers are tracing familiar patterns, but her friend doesn’t see, focus turned towards the rogue’s blades flashing between his fingers and where she’s being forced closer and closer to where the earth drops off behind her. 

It’s not a hard decision to make.

Nott all but screeches as Beau barrels into her, lifting her in one easy move as she lets momentum carry them forward. A blast just behind them almost makes her trip, but the human picks up her speed, adjusting her grip on her friend as Nott notices their trajectory and begins to struggle. “What are you doing? Beau, no, no, don’t!”

Something sharp catches and slips into her flesh as she launches them off the cliff’s edge, but Beau’s too focused on tucking Nott closer against her to give it any attention. They hit the sloping, craggy wall _hard_ , Beau gasping as she loses the air in her lungs; from there it’s a quick slide down, down, down, and she keeps Nott tight against her chest, reaches out with her free hand to try to grab for anything to slow their descent. All that gets her is raw fingers and torn nails to match the burns developing on her back, and by the time they hit dry riverbed below she’s grateful for the new kind of pain.

The impact jars her enough that she releases Nott, rolling and skidding into a pile of rocks as the world keeps spinning.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Nott’s voice pierces through the fog of confusion, and Beau tries to turn towards her only to find that her body refuses to listen. She slumps against the boulder instead, trying to breathe through the pain as fire spreads through her veins, sickly green lines tracing their way under her skin. 

The blade handle sticks out from her thigh, small and unobtrusive, fiery under the setting sun. 

“You hurt?” She asks the goblin, gritting her teeth against another wave of pain spreading through her body. Nott darts into her eyeline, scrabbling to pick up her crossbow before looking it over. 

“No, because you decided to be an _idiot_ ,” she hisses back, ears flattening against her hood. Beau laughs weakly, looking up the rocky slope and then back at the fuming goblin. “That was so stupid! Why did you grab me like that?”

“Seemed like fun, y’know, thought I’d mix things up.” Nott slowly turns to glare at her, and Beau grins lazily, shrugging before glancing up. There’s someone edging closer to the cliff’s edge above them, but her vision has already begun to blur and she can’t make out details. The human grunts, jerking her chin up. “Incoming. Our side or not?”

The soft _thwip_ of Nott’s crossbow is her answer, and brief seconds later the shape slumps forward, tipping over into freefall. Beau watches with mild interest as they fall, fall, finally crumpling into a broken pile at the cliff’s base. Nott waits a moment before darting forward, rummaging through the mage’s cloak, and Beau lets her head fall back against the rough stone behind her, glancing back up at the top of the precipice. 

No other figures appear. Beau doesn't know whether to be grateful or not as she strains to hear the ongoing fighting above.

“Useless,” her friend mutters, and there's a muffled thump that Beau thinks might the goblin kicking the dead body. “Do you think we could climb back up? Are you too hurt?”

Her fingers do little more than twitch when she tries to lift her hand to pull the dagger out; she manages to shake her head, ignores the fresh wave of pain coursing through her veins. “Can’t move. This thing’s poisoned.”

“It’s _what_?” Nott scrambles over to her, slinging her crossbow across her back before reaching out, stopping just shy of touching the handle. Her ears flatten back against her head as she glances up, eyes wide. “Is it just a paralytic or are you in pain?”

“Pain, definitely in pain,” she grits out, jaw clenching as the poison burns its way through her bloodstream. 

“Shit. _Shit_!” Nott hisses, reaching up to tug on her ears before she reaches for the pouch at her belt, frantically pulling out a piece of wire as she turns towards the cliff again. Beau watches as she points up, “Caleb quick, Beau is in trouble, we need a cleric down here! You can reply to this message.” 

A beat of silence follows, stretches into a minute, then into two. Her stomach twists into knots and heaves; Beau swallows back bile and watches as her friend begins to slip into panic. 

“He’s out of range, he must be out of range, fuck! Fuck, okay,” Nott turns back to her, shoving the wire back into her pouch. “Alright, where’s your healing potions? It’s fine, that’ll fix this.”

“No it won’t.” Her throat feels tight, and she isn’t sure if that should worry her more. Beau grimaces out a smile, grateful to have at least that much mobility left. “Doesn’t work, you know that.”

“Shut up, it’ll work. Where’s your potion?” Nott begins to rifle through her pockets without waiting for an answer, and Beau wheezes out a laugh, staring up the slope and hoping someone will come find them. 

No one appears, and her heart sinks a little bit more.

“Don’t have one,” she admits, feels Nott’s hands freeze against her waist. “Used it on Caduceus couple weeks ago.”

“Why would you do that?” Her companion all but wails, and Beau huffs out a laugh, grinning and glancing down at the goblin. 

“He kinda needed it. And anyway, it wouldn’t matter. Doesn’t help with poison.” Nott’s started to pace as Beau speaks, and she watches idly, trying to keep her breathing calm. The rock at her back feels damp, and it takes her longer than it should to realize that it’s wet with her own blood.

Nott takes a deep breath, stopping in her tracks and wheeling to face her suddenly. “I’m not leaving you, do you understand that?”

“What?” Beau frowns, something like worry twisting at her gut. “Nott, you need to—”

“No. I am going to get help for you and then I will be right back, alright?” She holds Beau’s gaze, words firm as she continues, “I am not leaving you, I am not abandoning you. I _will_ be back, Beauregard.”

Beau swallows against the sudden lump in her throat, tries to nod before remembering she can’t. Her voice only cracks a little when she says, “Thanks, Nott.”

The goblin says nothing, just darts in to kiss her forehead before beginning to scramble up the slope, stealth be damned. She wonders idly just how bad she looks for her friend to be moving so carelessly, but pushes that thought aside quickly. 

It’s not something she wants to dwell on. 

Nott reaches the ledge, pops her head over before disappearing entirely, and Beau succumbs to the cough that’s been threatening for the last few minutes, wheezing as her muscles spasm. When the fit finally passes, silence settles back in, no sounds coming from above. She swallows thickly as her vision begins to blur, sweat beading at her temples. 

Times passes slow as the molasses Caleb carries as she waits for her friends. 

By the time Caduceus begins climbing down the slope with Nott, Beau knows very little beyond the agony in her body. Tears drip down her cheeks and off her chin as her nerves scream out, as her back bleeds more than it should. She catches Jester hurtling down after them, hears an anguished cry, and then Caduceus’s face fills her vision. 

“Hi there, Miss Beau. You mind if I take this out?” He gestures to the blade’s handle, and his voice is calm but Beau can see the way his mouth is pinched, the lines of tension and worry around his eyes.

“Yeah, go ahead,” she manages, voice rough like she’s been swallowing gravel, and Caduceus braces one big hand on her thigh, using the other to carefully pull the dagger out. 

They seem to realize at the same time it was the wrong thing to do. 

Jagged edges tear her skin and it _burns_ , like someone’s doused her with acid. Caduceus moves to cover the wound with his hand, grunting and stabbing the dagger into the ground next to them. “Fuck.”

“That bad, huh?” Beau feels delirious, a new round of poison pumping through her system, and her friend looks at her grimly, squaring his shoulders. “You’ve sworn, like, three times in the four years I’ve known you, Deucy. It’s bad, don’t lie.”

“It is, but you’re gonna be just fine, Beau. I’m not letting you get away from us.” His free hand reaches up to cup the side of her neck, and she thinks he smiles but the tears are blurring her vision too much for her to really see anymore. “I’m sorry if this hurts.”

“Just do it,” she says, pleads, and then there’s too many sensations running through her body for her to parse, overloading her nerves and sending mixed signals to her brain. She might be screaming, and then there’s a cool hand on her arm and then nothing, nothing at all.

* * *

Someone is crying when she wakes up.

Beau comes to her senses slowly, consciousness washing over her like a rolling tide. She’s in a bed, partially undressed with a large swath of bandages over her back, and it’s a relief to find that when she goes to flex and relax her muscles her body finally listens to her. 

“We could have lost her. We almost lost her again.” Jester hiccups out a sob, sniffles and sighs, and it makes Beau’s heart clench, guilt filling her gut. “I don’t want her to die, Yasha.”

“I know, Jester. None of us do.” The other woman sounds tired; she wonders what time it is, wishes she had Caleb’s knack for always knowing. “We were lucky, though, she’s alright.”

“How long will we stay lucky?” The question is bitter and full of sorrow, and Yasha seems to have no response. The silence extends, tension brittle like weak bones, until Beau finally yawns and stretches, tries to make it as believable as possible.

She used to be a good liar. She can be one again. 

“Beauregard? Are you awake?” Yasha asks, gentle and steady, and Beau hums the affirmative, slowly blinking her eyes open. Jester is halfway across the room, heading towards her pack on the other bed, but Beau takes note of the way she’s surreptitiously trying to wipe her face. Yasha leans forward in her chair and Beau slowly switches her focus over, noting the lines easing from the aasimar’s face. “How are you feeling?”

“Alive,” she croaks out, loosely holding the sheet to her chest as she slowly sits up. Yasha reaches out to help, mindful of the bandages on her back, and Beau feels the warmth of a healing spell spread through her before the other woman carefully pulls away.

“Let’s keep it that way, alright?” The words are mild, almost amused, but she can tell it’s less a suggestion and more a command. The taller woman stands from her chair then, glancing over at where Jester is still rifling through her haversack before looking back down at Beau. “I’ll let the others know you’re up. I’m glad you’re okay, Beau.”

A warm smile and then she’s gone, shutting the door gently behind herself. Beau looks over at Jester, watches as she slowly stills, gripping the edges of her haversack tightly. 

It’s quiet, but it isn’t easy. Beau wishes it could just be easy.

“Jessie?” She finally speaks up after a moment, hesitant and unsure, the nickname feeling foreign on her tongue for the first time. The tiefling stiffens before relaxing, reaching once more into the haversack before turning around with her arms full of supplies and a smile on her face that reminds Beau of Nott’s long-gone mask. 

“I just need to check your back!” The words are cheerful, but Beau knows better; Jester’s eyes are still a little red, and her tail is stiff behind her, tucked close to her legs. She pauses next to the bed, tilting her head to the side briefly. “Can you scoot forward, please? You were really scraped up when Caduceus and I finished, I need to take the bandages off and see if you need anything else.”

Beau does as she’s asked, shifting down the bed until Jester can settle behind her. She stays quiet, holding the sheet bunched against her bare chest as her friend slowly begins to peel the bandages off her back. Jester murmurs quiet apologies each time her skin is tugged uncomfortably, each time she flinches, but the ache fades quick and they remain in silence as Jester wets a cloth and begins to gently wash her back.

Tears gather in Beau’s eyes, but they have nothing to do with pain.

Jester hums consideringly after a few moments, swiping the cloth gently over the dimples at the base of her spine before setting it aside. “These actually healed up pretty nice already, I don’t think I need to rebandage them. Maybe another healing spell and—”

“Are you mad at me?” She blurts out, cutting her friend off when she can’t keep it in any longer. Beau feels Jester still behind her, grimaces and reaches a hand up to swipe at her eyes until they’re dry. “Sorry, I just, I don’t know. Are you?”

“What? No, no, of course not. Why would you think that?” Jester sounds insistent, a little distressed, and Beau twists around until she’s almost completely facing her friend, one foot planted on the floor.

“I mean, you’ve been kinda tense. Plus, I’ve known you for a while now, Jess,” she says gently, shrugging once. “I can tell when you’re upset.”

The other woman swallows, a mix of emotions passing over her face before she sighs and seems to let go of whatever inner struggle is taking place. There’s a sad smile on her face when she reiterates, “I’m not mad, Beau.”

“Then what’s wrong?” She asks, stomach gone queasy at the thought of doing something to upset the other woman. Jester’s melancholy smile stays where it is, and Beau hates herself a little bit for it.

“You’re so careful with everyone. You saved Nott’s life, but you almost died _again_.” The tiefling has caught her tail in both hands, twisting it in a familiar soothing technique. Beau’s breath catches when she says forlornly, “It’s been years, Beau. When are you going to start being careful with yourself?”

The question hangs heavy between them, and she doesn’t fucking know what to say, doesn’t even know how to begin to answer that. She licks her dry lips, glances down to stare at where her scarred knuckles have gone pale against the sheet. Jester’s fingers are still fiddling with her tail, an unhappy tilt to her mouth when she looks back up and Beau doesn’t think before she leans forward, sheet falling as she wraps both arms around Jester’s shoulders. 

Her friend responds with a shaky exhale, immediately throwing her own arms around Beau’s back, skin against skin in contact that’s a better balm than any damn ointment or potion could be. 

“I’ll try harder,” she swears earnestly, and Jester presses their cheeks together, practically nuzzling, as she tugs Beau closer. 

“That’s all I want.” Jester smooths one hand up her spine, healing energy trailing in its wake, and Beau melts into the embrace, eyes fluttering shut. Her friend’s voice is soft when she murmurs, “I can’t lose you, Beau.”

“And I can’t lose you, or anyone else. If I can prevent that, I will.” Her words are firm but she matches her tone to Jester’s, keeps it as gentle as possible. The tiefling’s tail curls around her waist, and Beau sighs, relaxing further. “I promise I’ll be more careful, though.”

“Thank you,” and she follows it with a soft kiss to her cheek, cool lips brushing just below her eye. Beau cracks a smile, pretends that her heart isn’t beating out of her chest as she opens her eyes to meet Jester’s warm gaze.

“We aren’t heading out right away, right?” She asks, not pulling away just yet; it’s a relief that Jester hasn’t, either, arms and tail still wrapped tightly around her. 

Her friend scoffs at the question, nose wrinkling up in displeasure. “Absolutely not, are you kidding? You need to recover, and we definitely need to do some shopping, and like, we could probably use a break, you know?”

“Yeah, I think we earned that.” Jester beams at her answer before pressing back in, kissing her on the tip of her nose. Beau knows she’s blushing, but her friend just giggles and finally begins to disentangle her limbs.

“Good. Now get dressed, we should go downstairs before everyone else bursts in here,” Jester declares, gathering her medical supplies back up and practically skipping over to her haversack. Beau huffs, looking around the room to locate her breastband and shirt. 

“Whatever you say, Jessie. Whatever you want.”

* * *

Beau spends their last night in town tucked away in her and Jester’s room, muttering her excuses about being tired after dinner and leaving her family with their drinks in the inn’s bar. She resolves to go through her notebooks, not fit for company but unwilling to sleep, but she finds her mind drifting as soon as she opens the first one. 

The pages remain unturned even as the candle melts lower, and lower, until the door creaking open finally draws her attention.

“Oh! I didn’t think you were still awake.” Jester shuts the door behind her, smiling widely as she leans back against the wood. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d go over some notes,” she says, half-truth falling from her mouth easily. She doesn’t say, _I can’t close my eyes without seeing you scream, our friends dying next to us, and I wake up feeling like I can’t breathe every day._ She doesn’t say, _I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared, someone please help me._

Jester gives her a curious look before shrugging, stretching her arms up over her head as she walks towards her pack on the bed closest to the window. “Well, you probably weren’t having as much fun as us, but I hope it’s been productive?”

“Yeah, mostly. I can stop if it’ll keep you up, though,” she offers, and she mostly means it. Beau thinks she’d do just about anything for Jester. 

“No, it’s okay! You know me, I’m like super good at falling asleep no matter what.” Jester smiles sweetly before rifling through her pack, pulling out her nightclothes and starting to strip. 

Beau snorts, smiling to herself before rolling onto her side, staring at the door to try and give her friend the semblance of privacy. “Yeah, don’t I know it.”

The laughter that rings out behind her is unashamed, loud and easy, and Beau’s heart stutter-skips, warmth spreading through her at the familiar sound. Jester’s still giggling as she says, “You can pretend to be annoyed all you want. I know you love me, Beau.”

 _I do, I do. I’d love you in every lifetime_ , she thinks, but she just laughs and nods, shuffling through her notes as she listens to Jester settle into her bed. She’s just tired enough to let a little too much honesty slip into her voice when she replies, “Of course I do, Jester.”

“Good.” She sounds satisfied, but there’s something almost wistful about the word; Beau’s sure that that’s just wishful thinking, though. “Goodnight, Beau.”

“Night, Jessie.”

The peace doesn’t last long.

Words are blurring together, and Beau finally admits defeat with a quiet groan, knuckling at her eyes before tossing her notes onto the ground. There’s rustling from the other bed, Jester flipping around as she always does, and the human is smiling when she glances over her shoulder to check on her friend. Jester’s teary face wipes the grin from her face in an instant.

“Can I please sleep with you?” She asks in a rush, tremulous, fingers twisted together, eyes flashing in the dim candlelight. Beau can’t nod fast enough. 

“Yeah, Jess, of course. Whatever you need.” The words are barely out of her mouth before Jester is launching herself out of bed, nearly tripping as the sheets and her nightgown tangle together. She scrambles onto the bed before Beau even has a chance to turn around, sliding under the sheets to press up against her back, tail slipping loosely around one of her thighs. 

The tiefling is shaking, and Beau wishes she could reach into her mind and destroy whatever is haunting her tonight. 

“Is this okay?” Jester whispers, lips brushing against bare skin as she ducks her head towards Beau’s shoulder, and Beau can only nod, feeling her friend slowly begin to relax behind her. She prays to a deity she doesn’t believe in that Jester won’t be able to feel the way her heart is slamming against her rib cage. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Beau keeps her voice low, aiming for soothing, and wishes she was better equipped for this, wishes she was anyone but herself for a moment like this. Jester’s tail tightens, digging into her bare skin until Beau is sure it will bruise, but she says nothing, waits out her friend until the tiefling suddenly releases a shuddering sigh against her shoulder, sends goosebumps trailing along in its wake. 

“It was a nightmare,” and Jester sounds so small that Beau aches. “Lorenzo, and the Laughing Hand, and those awful scourgers and the war, the _war_. Nothing was going right and I couldn’t heal anyone, and I can’t—”

“None of it was real,” Beau cuts her off in a rush, desperate to calm her friend down. “It wasn’t real, Jess, we’re all safe, I promise.”

“What if we aren’t?” She asks, voice hushed as though she doesn’t want to give power to the thought, and Beau reaches back until she can grab one of her friend’s hands, squeezing clumsily. 

“We’re safe from all of that, though. It’s all in the past.” She tries to keep her voice steady, squeezing Jester’s hand again, relief flooding her veins as the other woman’s shaking begins to subside. Beau pushes on, “None of that can hurt us now, Jester.”

There’s a watery laugh behind her, the hand under Beau’s sliding across skin until Jester’s arm is draped over her waist. “You know that’s not true.”

“Yeah, okay, that didn’t come out right. We’ve all got scars and those are gonna take a long time to stop aching, if they ever do,” she admits, pressing her friend’s hand to her stomach and breathing deeply. “Maybe they’ll always be awful reminders, but none of those people, those things, are a danger to us now, Jess. You’re safe.”

“Promise?” Her voice is still a little unsteady, but she’s matched her breathing to Beau’s now, and the human is willing to call that a win. 

“I promise, Jester. I’ll never let them hurt you,” and she means it, fiercely and recklessly, the same way she’s meant every truth she’s ever told the tiefling. 

Her friend gives a shuddering sigh behind her, all of the tension melting from her body at once, and Beau shuts her eyes briefly against the staggering wave of relief that washes over her. 

“Think you can go back to sleep?” She asks gently, unsurprised when Jester shakes her head. She squeezes her friend’s hand, nerves prickling as an idea passes through her mind. “Let me try something. You can totally tell me to stop or fuck off or whatever, though, okay?”

The tiefling at her back snorts, smile pressing against her bare shoulder. “Okay, Beau, sure.”

Beau feels the smile slip away as soon as she begins to hum the lullaby Marion had taught her on their last visit. 

She knows it’s probably a little too loud, and definitely off-key, but Jester’s breathing begins to slow behind her anyway, the tiefling’s cool hand going limp and lax against her stomach. She keeps humming the song over and over, until her throat’s gone dry and Jester is definitely snoring, until the candle has melted and finally sputtered out. Beau finally falls quiet, then, staring at the opposite wall and willing the burning in her eyes away. 

Sleep doesn’t come for her, and she’s relieved, she thinks, that she won’t face death for one night. She watches through the window as the sky grows pale and warm, listens to the snores of her bedmate as she considers what their family’s next move will be.

There’s a birdcall outside, low and mournful; Beau blinks, eyes dry and gritty, and says, “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

The hand on her stomach twitches, Jester letting out a sleepy rumble behind her, and Beau keeps staring at the hazy light filtering in through the shuttered window. She can’t tell if the other woman is still asleep or not, but it’s like the floodgates have opened and she can’t stop herself now.

“I can’t go to sleep without watching someone die, so sometimes I just don’t sleep. I’m so scared to lose any of you,” and it shouldn’t be this hard to admit, why is it so hard to admit now? Claws press gently against her stomach, Jester’s tail tightening around her thigh as her friend tips her forehead against her shoulder, and Beau just lets the words keep spilling out, tripping over her tongue like they’re in a race to leave. “I’m scared all the time, Jessie, and I don’t know how to stop. Why do we have to keep fighting? When do we get a break?”

The tiefling behind her squirms a little closer, and Beau swallows hard, blindly reaches down to press her hand over Jester’s on her stomach. “It’s okay,” her friend whispers, and Beau wants to laugh, wants to weep, wants to do a hundred things she isn’t allowed. 

“I can’t remember how to cry unless I’m dying,” she admits, feels something ugly and visceral clawing at her insides. Jester makes a sound behind her, low and broken, and Beau squeezes her hand, wills her to stay, just stay. Her vision is blurring, and the next words catch in her throat, thick and unwilling to leave. She breathes, swallows hard, and finally, finally says, “I just wanna stop, Jess, I want us all to stop. It’s so hard to breathe some days, why is it so hard to breathe?”

“Oh, Beau,” murmured against her shoulder, achingly tender, and then she’s sobbing, big, ugly heaving cries that rip out of her body without her permission. Jester squeezes her other arm underneath her until she can wrap both around Beau, humming soothingly as she hooks her chin over her shoulder. 

The tears keep coming, months worth of trauma and fears finally bleeding out of her body in a deluge that she can’t hope to stop. Jester holds her through it all, murmuring in common and infernal alike, tone comforting and low; Beau doesn’t remember the last time she let herself be consoled like this. 

Grief leaves in her waves until she’s a hiccuping mess, wrung out and raw, body wracked with tremors even after her eyes stop producing any moisture. 

Jester’s arms stay tight around her, a lifeline in a sea of turmoil, and Beau just wants to drown in her.

She finally takes a shuddering exhale, lets it out slow, does it again and again until her breathing is matched to the woman behind her. Her friend lifts one hand up then, gently knuckling away some stray tears from her face, and murmurs, “We’ll figure it out, Beau. I promise, we will.”

“Do you really believe that?” She croaks out, desperate for the truth, desperate for a lie, desperate for anything that will give her hope. Jester sighs softly, and she brushes her lips against Beau’s jaw, fingers sliding away. 

“I do, Beau. We’re gonna sit everyone down, and we’re all gonna talk about where we go from here,” she says, certain and determined. “We’ve been putting it off for too long, I think, you know? We’re going to figure it out, though. I’ll be right next to you until we do.” 

Something light inflates behind her breastbone, and she finds herself nodding, clearing her throat before speaking again. “Okay. I believe you.”

“I’m never gonna lie to you.” Jester kisses her jaw again, then loosens her hold as Beau begins to shift slightly. 

“Sorry, I’m just gonna go wash my face,” she mumbles, carefully sliding out of the bed and padding into the attached bathroom, avoiding the mirror as she heads for the sink.

She cleans her face with cold water, holding a cloth to her eyes until they feel less swollen and achy, until she thinks she can go back and face the truth in the light of day. Jester is sitting on the bed when she comes out of the bathroom, legs tucked under herself, and the smile she gives Beau when their gazes meet lights her whole face up. She reaches out a hand, patient and without expectations, and something in Beau cracks open. 

“I love you,” she says before she can think to stop herself, standing frozen and still in the doorway. Jester rolls her eyes, smile turning fond and sweet. 

“I know, Beau. I love you, too.” She says it like it’s a fact, easy, and Beau can’t breathe, shakes her head as she forces her feet to move, doesn’t stop until she’s falling to her knees next to the bed. Jester’s smiles falls, brow furrowing as she continues to reach out. “Beau, what is it, what’s wro—”

“I don’t just love you, Jess. I’m in love with you,” she admits, reaching up to clasp Jester’s hand in both of her own. Her friend freezes, eyes widening, and Beau smiles weakly, tries to pretend like she isn’t trembling. “It doesn’t have to change anything, I swear. I’ve been in love with you for so long, but you’ve been my best friend for longer and that’s more important. Everything can stay the same, I promise it can. I just, uh, I just wanted to tell you, that’s all.”

Silence falls over the room abruptly, and Beau realizes just how much she’s been babbling. Anxiety slides through her veins like venom, ratcheting up her heart rate until she’s sure Jester must be able to hear it. The other woman just keeps staring down at her, lips parted and eyes unblinking, like she’s in some kind of daze, and Beau wonders, a little hysterically, if there’s anything she can do to recover from this.

The silence holds, the moment gone fragile and unsteady, and Jester just keeps staring, her hand still pressed between Beau’s, the two of them caught in some kind of tableau, a parody of lovers, the act of confession. A distant thought passes through her head that she should probably let go.

She doesn’t think she can ever let go.

A small eternity passes before Jester’s gaze finally focuses, her expression smoothing out. Her fingers twitch against Beau’s as she softly asks, “You love me?”

“Yes,” comes her automatic reply; she’s so far past lying it isn’t even funny. All she wants, all she needs, is for Jester to know that it’s so much a truth in Beau’s life that she wouldn’t know how to live without that love.

“You’re in love with me.” It isn’t a question this time, Jester instead speaking with such surety that Beau can hardly breathe.

“Yes,” and it’s a prayer, a wish, an offering. The look on her friend’s face doesn’t change, unreadable and unknowable, and Beau wants to weep, wants to beg forgiveness, wants to offer her heart to Jester again like she has a hundred times over already. 

Jester nods once, her jaw setting into something determined, and pulls her hand away from Beau’s. She lets go, lets her hands fall to the sheets, ignores the burning in her throat as she tries to figure out the best way to piece her heart back together. 

She isn’t expecting Jester to reach down and cradle her face like she’s something precious, isn’t expecting Jester to lean down and brush their lips together in a kiss as soft and delicate as a butterfly’s wings.

“What?” She stares dumbly at her best friend as Jester pulls back, just a hair’s breadth between them, and the tiefling giggles softly, smile slowly spreading across her face. 

“I love you,” she says, and Beau feels her palms begin to sweat, wonders if she’s dreaming. 

“You love me,” Beau repeats, and Jester laughs again, sweeps her thumbs over her cheeks.

“Yes, I love you.” Her eyes are sparkling, and Beau reaches up without thinking, fingertip gently tracing over her left dimple. The other woman sighs happily, turns her head to quickly kiss the retreating finger before she murmurs sweetly, almost shy, “I’m in love with you, too, Beau.”

“You are?” Beau asks, and Jester beams like the fucking sun, nodding and stroking her cheeks again. Her enthusiastic _Yes_ is lost between their mouths and Beau leans up, kisses her like she’ll never get another chance. Jester laughs into the kiss, and Beau laughs, too, ignores the tears beading at the corner of her eyes. 

Maybe she crawls up onto the bed, maybe Jester pulls her up, but then she’s straddling the other woman’s knees, curling her arms around her shoulders as hands press against her back, their mouths meeting again and again, until she feels drunk with it and the corners of her lips pull up, until they’re both smiling too hard to continue, until they’re just sharing air and space and Beau feels so loved that she never wants to leave this room.

“We’re in love,” she murmurs, tipping her forehead against Jester’s, and the woman under her sighs contentedly, tail sliding slowly around her waist. 

“Yes,” she whispers back, and Beau’s heart flips in her chest; she can’t help herself from leaning down to brush a kiss to Jester’s nose, delighting in the soft giggle she lets out. 

“And we’ll figure out the rest?” She watches as Jester’s gaze gentles further, something protective and tender, and it astounds her, now, how she didn’t put it together before when the love just radiates from the other woman. 

One of her hands comes up to gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, dropping down to gently cup Beau’s jaw. “We’ll figure it all out, Beau. Together,” and it’s spoken like a promise, sealed with a kiss. 

Beau shuts her eyes and thinks about forever. 

* * *

It takes some months, but forever starts much sooner than she ever dared hope.

“Where’s your husband?” Beau asks as she stumbles into her kitchen to find Caleb carefully stirring honey into a bowl of oatmeal. The other human glances over at her with poorly-concealed amusement, nodding his chin towards the large window by the stove. 

“Already on the beach with your girlfriend and our family. Tea’s on the counter for you.” He turns back to his breakfast, setting Jester’s jar of honey aside before meandering past her; Beau listens to her front door open, continues to blink dumbly at her almost empty kitchen until Frumpkin begins to chirp at her. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” she mutters, scrubbing at her eyes before shuffling forward and picking up her mug, rubbing her knuckles firmly under the fey-cat’s chin. “Let’s go outside, huh?”

The tabby purrs loudly before jumping gracefully up to her shoulder, stretching out around her neck. Beau huffs in amusement and turns to follow Caleb’s path, shutting the door behind her and joining her friend on the porch swing. Frumpkin slinks down to sprawl across their laps, purring loudly, and Beau tips her head against Caleb’s shoulder, drinking her tea slowly as he eats. 

Out ahead, just down the path, is her whole heart, her whole world, and Beau doesn’t believe, some days, that she gets this. 

Jester is skipping rocks with Luc and Yeza as Veth watches, laughing from her blanket next to Caduceus. Nugget is splashing through the surf, blinking between chasing rocks and swimming with Fjord and Yasha.

Later, they’ll take the cart into town and meet Marion for dinner; later, Beau thinks she might give Jester the ring she tucked away a year ago on a whim, decorated with sapphires and jade; later, Beau will fall asleep listening to Jester’s heartbeat and Jester’s snores, and she’ll think she’s the luckiest motherfucker in the whole fucking universe. 

Now, though, she watches as Jester turns and spots them, arm waving wildly before she turns back to say something to the halflings. She begins racing up the beach, then, smile wide on her face, and Beau’s heart stutters as she watches, straightening up as Caleb sighs in something like fond exasperation. 

“Hey, you’re awake! Finally!” She calls out as she gets closer, wet feet slapping against their wood deck, and then she’s bracing to a stop, ducking and pressing a sweet kiss to Beau’s mouth that tastes of sugar and cinnamon. 

Caleb makes a retching noise beside them, but Beau just blindly reaches out to pinch his arm. 

“Morning,” she says when Jester pulls away, and she’s probably smiling like an idiot but Jester just beams, running a hand over her hair.

“Good morning to you, too. C’mon, hurry up, we’re waiting for you guys!” She looks between them, tail whipping excitedly behind her, and Beau laughs, shaking her head.

“Ja, we can tell you really waited,” Caleb deadpans, raising a single eyebrow, and Jester huffs, reaching down to gently swat at his shoulder. 

“It’s not as fun without you guys, so hurry!” She ducks down, kisses Beau until she’s breathless and then darts away, shouting something that has Veth and Caduceus laughing hysterically. 

Beau just stares, helpless to keep the grin off her face.

“You’re useless,” Caleb says mildly, scratching gently between Frumpkin’s ears before nudging the cat off of them.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna be useless with her for the rest of my life,” Beau tells him with a sigh, knocking back the rest of her tea before standing. Caleb laughs fondly and follows suit, ushering her inside to drop their dishes in the basin before heading out to the rest of their family. 

Beau glances over as they leave, four nearly identical cottages lined up next to her and Jester’s. She smiles as they hit sand, leaving Caleb on the blanket with Veth and Caduceus as she continues forward, running until she can tackle her girlfriend into an oncoming wave. There’s a shriek, and then they’re submerged, the gentle current tugging at them even as they pop back up. 

Jester stares at her for a moment in shock before she bursts out laughing, reaching out to tug Beau closer. “Oh, you got me! That was good!”

“I thought so,” she replies, a little proud of herself, and Jester loops her arms around her waist, grinning up at her. “What’s that look for?”

“I just love you very much, that’s all,” and Beau blushes, beams, has to lean down and kiss the sea off of her girlfriend’s lips. 

That’s all. That’s all. She can live with that’s all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I truly hope you enjoyed it. I tried hard to keep the characterization right, I just love these characters to pieces. Kind of put my whole heart into this one, I hope that it shows. 
> 
> Title is from "Would You Be So Kind" by Dodie, because I listened to it, "Running Up the Hill" by Kate Bush, and "Strawberry Blond" by Mitski pretty much non-stop while writing this. The line hit me and I thought it fit well with the story I was trying to write. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading! You can find me over on [tumblr](https://nevershootamockingbird.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/daleytwin1) if you feel like yelling with me about these characters, this show, or, you know, anything else!


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